


Interrupted

by queenie_writes



Series: Road Trips [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenie_writes/pseuds/queenie_writes
Summary: A series of memories from Quinn's POV, while he talks to Brock on the phone, and Matt stands in the doorway, naked and confused.
Relationships: Quinn Hughes/Matthew Tkachuk
Series: Road Trips [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670737
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory warning to not read if a) you know any of these idiots b) you don't like the pairing. 
> 
> Cheers babes.

There's a buzzing next to his head, incessant and annoying. It takes him a solid few seconds to understand what it is, but then he's reaching, sleepily, for the phone. He doesn't open his eyes as he answers it. His mind and body are too busy warring with each other. One wants to stay asleep; the other just wants the buzzing to go away. 

"Yeah?" His voice is craggy, filled with sleep and raw from disuse. All he wants is to go back to sleep; to curl up next to the warm body against him, pretend that this is what he gets to have He's tired and sore from the game, but it's more than that. He's too tired to explain. 

"Quinn?" The voice on the other end asks. The voice is sharp. Worried, his mind supplies in his sleepy haze.

That wakes him up. "Shit," Matt says quietly, eyes peeling open as he pulls the phone away from his head. Sure enough, it's Quinn's phone in his hand not his own. 

"Who is this? Where's Quinn?" The voice is quieter but only because Matt had pulled the phone away from his ear. 

"He's right here. Chill out, man." Matt, ever the one to stoke fires, says with a grunt. It earns him a squawk from the other end and he rolls his eyes. "He's a big boy, Boeser; he doesn't need you checking upon him." 

He can hear Boeser on the other end protesting the statement, but he doesn't care anymore. He's tired and annoyed. He just wanted to stay asleep. He didn't want to be interrupted by the golden-haired pain in the ass. 

He nudges Quinn with his foot, shaking him. "Quinn, man, wake up." He slides out of bed as he says it and stands to his full height. "Babe," the word rolls from his lips without thought. The fact that Brock Boeser likely heard him doesn't even register. 

Quinn's voice is equally as raw as Matt's. Confusion clouds his blue eyes as he looks up at Matt. "What?" He asks. 

"Phone." Matt drops it on the bed beside Quinn. "I gotta piss." 

Matt barely hears Quinn's soft hey before he disappears into the bathroom. 

**  
"That hip check," Matt says, fingers circling smooth skin as he speaks. 

Quinn grins up at him, his fingers wrapping smoothly around a stray curl that had fallen into Matt's face. "Yeah? You liked that, did you?" He can't help but be pleased with himself. He was used to going against Brady, that was his childhood, after all. Matt was another story. Matt was his future. Matt was something he had never trained for or planned on. Matt was the fates way of giving him more than what he had. More than he thought he ever wanted or deserved.

Matt hums softly, a lazy smile on his lips. "Where'd you learn that little trick? I don't remember you using it on me before." 

Quinn scoffs, "I've got other moves you haven't seen, Tkachuk. Don't act so surprised." Quinn moves closer, crowding into Matt's space. Close enough to run the tip of his tongue along Matt's bottom lip. He's rewarded with a soft moan from Matt. 

It derails the conversation as Matt pulls Quinn closer and deepens the kiss Quinn started. Quinn's okay with this, though. They can talk over the phone. This, though, could not be done over the phone. 

Matt's fingers are fire on Quinn's bare skin. The rough pads of the tips of Matt's fingers trail down Quinn's spine, pausing at the crease of his ass. Quinn's soft sigh against Matt's lips is all the invitation Matt needs to move lower. 

**

"Where are you?" Brock's voice is frantic over the phone line. "Who was that?" 

Quinn watches Matt's naked form retreat into the bathroom and sighs. His hands run through his hair, and he flops back onto the pillow he'd been using. "I'm... I was sleeping." 

"That's not what I asked." 

Quinn rolled his eyes. He knew that wasn't what Brock asked. It was what he was willing to give as an answer, though. "I told you I was going to sleep. It's what I did." There were things between him leaving the bar and going to sleep that he wasn't about to share with Brock, somethings no one, but he and Matt needed to know about. It was his life; he didn't have to answer to anyone. He didn't understand why he was so defensive about all of this, but he couldn't help it. It was a knee jerk reaction.

"Quinn, come on. What's going on? Was that Tkachuk?" Of course, Brock would recognize Matt's voice. Even sleep logged, he had a distinct sound.

"Would it be an issue if it was?" Quinn asked as the defiance laced his words. He knew how people felt about Matt. On the ice, the term pest was appropriate and earned. Off the ice, though, he was a different creature. Quinn loved him, had loved him for years. Even before they got together, Quinn had loved him. All the times he spent at the Tkachuks' over the summers, his friendship with Brady. All of it had led him to fall for the eldest Tkachuk. It was a much easier fall than it should have been.

He glances up as the bathroom door opens, Matt stands in the doorway, shoulder leaned against the jam. Quinn's eyes trail the length of his body, taking in the sight of him, naked and unreserved. He doesn't want to be on the phone anymore. He has better things to do than listen to Brock stumble over words and give him crap for his relationship choices.

"No, no, of course not," Brock's voice pulls him back into the conversation despite the view he has. "I just…"

"You what?" Quinn asks, eyes flicking to the corner of the bed. It was best not to look at Matt while he was focusing on talking to Brock.

"I was worried, and you weren't in your room when I went to check on you. You took a pretty hard hit," Brock laughs a little at that, and Quinn's brows pinch together. "Guessing you're fine now. I hope he's making up for it."

That statement alone washes some of the tension and defiance from Quinn. He didn't think Brock would have an issue with his choice of gender preference in partners, but this particular partner tended to come with some misunderstandings. Quinn chuckles slightly and shakes his head. He can see Matt's eyebrow quirk up in question.

**

Quinn curls into Matt's side, his breathing is coming out in short huffs like he's just skated the length of the ice. Matt presses a kiss to Quinn's forehead and lets his fingers run through his sweat-soaked hair. His thumb trails the length of Quinn's jaw before he tilts his chin up and steals a kiss. A smile, light, and soft spreads over Quinn's lips and his fingers card through Matt's hair.

"I'm supposed to be sleeping," Quinn says quietly against Matt's lips. He's loath to break the kiss, though. He's spent too much of his time, too much of their time, just talking on the phone or over text. They don't see each other enough to make the stolen kisses feel less than life being breathed deep into his lungs.

"Are you complaining?" Matt asks As his lips move lower, ghosting over his jawline and down Quinn's neck. His voice is soft, but the challenge is still there, hanging on the sound of his smooth words.

He wasn't complaining. Of course, he wasn't. There was never anything about their relationship that he complained about unless it was the distance and perhaps the fact that they had to keep it all a secret, but they'd chosen to keep it between them and only them for reasons that were still valid. Somedays he wondered, though, if maybe telling a few people would be okay. Brady, maybe? Quinn wants his best friend to know, but at the same time, trying to explain that he fell for Brady's older brother was a jumble of empty words that would likely fall on deaf ears and make life a little harder. He wasn't worried about telling people he was gay; it was who he was in love with that he was concerned about telling people about. Matt was misunderstood and not always the most well-liked. Quinn liked him enough for the rest of the world.

"You know I'm not," Quinn said with a smile.

Matt slid from beneath Quinn, slipping off the bed to tie off and deposit the condom in the trash. Quinn used the loss of warmth as an excuse to kick at the rumpled blankets and pull them up to his waist. The TV was still on, but what they had been watching had gone ignored. He'd dozed for a bit when he'd gotten into bed, but Matt had distracted him from actually sleeping.

"That's good," Matt says as he walks out of the bathroom. "If you're getting bored of me, I could always leave."

Quinn laughs at the absurdity of the statement and shakes his head. "Don't you dare," he says through the laugh. "You're the best part of this roadie; you know that."

Matt did know that. Quinn made sure of it. He wasn't shy about making sure Matt knew how much he loved him. At first, when they'd started all of this, Quinn had thought, expected, that Matt would be one of those guys who didn't do feelings, but as it turned out, the big tough guy act on the ice was just that. An act. He huffed and puffed and threw his weight around on the ice, but the truth of the matter was, Matthew Tkachuk was a big softy, and Quinn was lucky enough to get to see that. 

Oh, he was a cocky bastard at the best of times, it was true. He knew how to get attention and often craved it, but it wasn't the only thing there was to him. He was caring towards his family and friends, generous and kind when the situation called for it. It was because of this mix of sweet and that Quinn had found it so easy to fall for the eldest Tkachuk. 

A fool's errand that in the end, had paid off. 

**  
"Yeah, man," Quinn says, "I'm fine." He glances up at Matt and juts his chin out, indicating that Matt should get back in bed. "I promise. I'm well cared for." 

Quinn doesn't even need to look at Matt to see the smirk on his lips as he pushes away from the door jam and moves back to the bed. "And I'm gonna look after him some more." It's a quiet promise not meant for Brock's ears. Just for Quinn. 

Quinn can feel his face warm at the thought. His heart skips a beat, and part of him wants to shake his head at himself. It's silly how much of an effect Matt has on him, but he can't help it. He's been in love with the guy for as long as he can remember, but it wasn't until he got drafted that he thought maybe he wasn't the only one with feelings. 

**  
The noise of the party is almost overwhelming, but it's for him, so he stays. He stands there, talking to a bunch of people all congratulating him on his being drafted. It's something he worked so hard for and dreamt of for so long. He takes their congratulations graciously and sips on his champagne. He's not old enough to drink, but his parents don't seem to mind, so who is he to toss up the opportunity?

"7th overall," someone behind him says. A shiver runs the length of his spine as the breath of the speaker ghosts over his ear. His voice is low, almost a rumble. If the owner weren't speaking right next to his ear, Quinn wouldn't have heard him at all. Quinn's heart is in his throat the second he hears him speak. "Not bad." Quinn can hear the smirk in the voice. "But I'm still better. "

Quinn lets out a little snort, his head ducks away from the disembodied voice. "Yeah?" he asks as he turns to face the man who belongs to the voice, "talk is cheap, Matt. You ever gonna prove that? "He knows he shouldn't flirt with the older Tkachuk. It's a path he can't walk, but try as he might, he can't help himself. There is something about the charismatically sweet and cocky boy that draws Quinn's attention away from anything and everyone but him.

"If you're lucky," Matt says before stepping away from Quinn. Matt turns as he walks away, a glint in his eyes that Quinn refuses to read into. Matt flashes a toothy grin that has Quinn swooning internally before disappearing into the crowd.

Quinn sighs softly, his hand running through his hair before he forces his attention back to the celebration before him. The party was for him, after all. Anything that Matthew Tkachuk had to offer was certainly not. 

It's almost the end of the party before Quinn sees Matt again. He's swapping out an empty glass of champagne for a fresh one when he finds himself in a precarious position. Half pulled into an alcove, half in danger of falling over and entirely having spilled his drink on the floor and the sleeve of his suit. "Dude, what," the gripe dies on his lips as he realizes who is responsible for the sudden upheaval. 

"You were supposed to come find me," Matthew says. His voice makes Quinn think of an irritable lion stalking its prey. "I don't like to be kept waiting." 

"I. Uh." Quinn says lamely. Matt hadn't said anything about wanting Quinn to go anywhere, had he? He was sure he hadn't. 

"How am I supposed to show you I'm better if you don't follow me?"

Quinn is still confused, but he tries not to let that show. "Make it clearer next time, yeah?" he offers as a quip. 

Ever the one for a challenge, Matt's next move shocks Quinn, but in a good way. Before he can register the movements, Matt's lips press against his, while he finds his back pressed against the wall. It's brief and hurried, barely any time to respond but he understands why as Matt glances behind him at the party. 

"Clear enough for you, Hughes?" 

Quinn clears his throat and nods his head. It was about as clear as mud, but at least he had an idea of where this was going. 

"Maybe we take this back to your room and discuss it further," he says as he tries to find his mental footing. 

"Best idea you've had all night." Matt's fingers wrap around Quinn's wrist, and he tugs him away from the wall. "You need a new jacket. Did you notice you spilled your drink? I think I have an extra." 

Quinn snorts and shakes his head but follows willingly.

**  
"Will you be coming back to the room tonight?" Brock's voice is somewhere between tired, confused, and possibly hopeful. 

"Nah, man. I'm staying here for the night. Tell Petey the room is all his." 

"Cool. I will relay that message. See ya tomorrow, then."

"Hey, wait," Quinn says, panic tinging his voice. "Don't tell anyone, yeah? Petey or the team. Or -"

Brock cuts him off with a scoff, "You know I wouldn't. It's your secret to tell and mine to keep for you. Night Quinn. Tell the pest good night too." 

Quinn laughs as well as says goodnight before hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the bed in front of Matt. "So, Brock knows." 

"Sorry about that." Matt looks sorry, but in Quinn's opinion, he doesn't need to be. Perhaps if it had been someone else on the team, Quinn would be upset, but Brock of all people was the least of his worries. 

"How sorry?" Quinn challenges. 

Matt matches his smirk before moving closer. His arm wraps around Quinn's waist, and he's pulled flat against Matt. "Want me to make it up to you?" He asks as if he didn't already know the answer to the question. 

Quinn doesn't get to answer, though he doesn't need to, because Matt's lips are on his, kissing his breath and his thoughts away. 

This was so much better than going back to his room. Petey could enjoy the quiet. Quinn had better things to do or have done to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @ c-hartwriteshockey.tumblr.com for more and less chaos and trash. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or a Kudo. I know this is a ship that I and only I give a shit about but I appreciate the serotonin your positivity gives me. much thanks <3


End file.
